


After The Fall of Sherlock

by ThreeDaysGrace3



Category: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Comforting Mycroft, Crying John, Crying Sherlock, Gay Sex, Incest, M/M, Moriarty is Dead, Past Drug Use (mentioned), Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Slight OOC if ya squint a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-11 01:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7019179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeDaysGrace3/pseuds/ThreeDaysGrace3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sherlock's "death", he needs a place to hide. he runs to Mycroft.  Sherlock can't get his mind to stop, he runs to Mycroft.  John can't get out of his head, He runs to Mycroft. Even when he's in love with John, he runs to Mycroft. And Mycroft fixes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After The Fall of Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> NONE OF THESE ARE MINE. NO CHARACTERS NO SHOW NO NOTHING.

It has been two months. Two months and Sherlock was going out of his mind. Of course, this was normal. It was normal for Sherlock to almost rip his curly hair out, it was normal for him to be pacing in pure agony as his mind was running 24/7. It was not exactly normal for his mind to be on John for the past few weeks, and it was definitely not normal for Sherlock to be in hiding, waiting for the right time to show up again, truly well and alive.

Sherlock was currently at Mycroft’s home which is perhaps the most secretive thing in Britain, trying not to go out of his mind. He was currently pacing around the room Mycroft had him in. It’s been two months since his ‘death’, and he’d never have had to deal with something like this. It was almost as bad as going through withdrawal when Mycroft found out about him using drugs.

Sherlock wished that he could see John again. He’d been spending the day analyzing what exactly John would be doing at this moment. If indeed, his routine had changed at all.

He’s been keeping up with John’s blog although it has became boring. The first few paragraphs had always had something to do with how he misses Sherlock and how he kept thinking that the man was going to come bursting through the door any moment and that it was never going to happen.

Sherlock sighed. He hasn’t shed a tear as of yet, but he was extremely close. John was hurting. Of course that is what is expected when you lose your best friend. Sherlock has had a lot of time to analyze, and he got a few white boards and starting calculating if he was truly in love with John. He re-did the formulas and equations, but the results were still the same. The percentage of the fact that he was in love with John was very high, compared to the percentage of the equation where John was not a part of his life than. That settled it than. He was in love with John, and he couldn’t do anything about it because supposedly, Sherlock is suppose to be dead. Sherlock already know that John was in love with him. So, once everything settled down, they would declare their love for each other.

Until then, Sherlock would be stuck here. Trying not to cry. He plopped down on the bed, now calculating what John would be doing at this exact time. He had not realized that it got so late, when he heard the door open and shut indicating that Mycroft had come back from work.

Mycroft would want Sherlock to sleep at this hour, but knew that it couldn’t possibly be done. Sherlock was not only stubborn, but his mind indeed, would not shut down.

Mycroft sighed as locked the door behind him out of habit. He listened for any sound or movement that Sherlock would be awake, or be playing his violin that Mycroft had took from 221B. He only heard silence. Mycroft breathed out a sigh of relieve. Sherlock had not been himself. With any other normal person, they’d only say that Sherlock was more stressed than usual. But Sherlock’s eldest brother knew the truth. Sherlock was beyond stressed. Mycroft knew Sherlock was going to be in love since before Sherlock would even know. It’d only be a matter of time until he figured it out.

Mycroft took off his coat, and carefully walked up the stairs, not wanting to wake up Sherlock. Every night he would do this. Look after his brother on nights that he was asleep. He’d been taking care of Sherlock ever since Sherlock ran to him after he had found the papers stating their parents divorce. Sherlock would never admit that, but they’d both know. Sherlock would pretend that he didn’t need Mycroft, and Mycroft would continue to help out Sherlock. Sherlock and Mycroft wouldn’t exactly be called “close” by any sense. It was just an unspoken rule that they never talked about even when they were alone.  
Mycroft carefully opened the door to Sherlock’s room. He sighed when he saw Sherlock’s eyes open. “Evening, Sherlock.”

“Evening, Mycroft.” Sherlock stared at the ceiling. “I assume you were with John, since you get home 1 hour before now, and calculating that your suit is wrinkled and smells of tea?”  
Mycroft merely smiled. “Yes, Sherlock. He texted me, saying that he needed me.”

Sherlock snorted. “As if.”

“Well, he would text you but of course, you are dead.”

Sherlock hummed.

Mycroft smirked, knowing that he won. He put his umbrella aside, and sat next to the bed. He already knew the answer, but communicating never really did any harm, only to those that misinterpret it. “Why are you up, Young one?”

Sherlock sighed. “It kills me. Knowing that you are allowed to communicate with him, text him, even visit him, and I’m just here.”

Mycroft sadly smiled. “Yes, But it is not forever. Just until things quiet down.”

“How is he?” Sherlock always asked this question every day since he came through Mycroft’s home.

Mycroft cocked his head to the side. “How do you think he is?”

“Lonely, betrayed, hurt, heart broken.”

“He cried himself to sleep tonight. Saying how much he misses you.” Mycroft explained.

Sherlock felt his heart wrench. John had been crying. Like him. Crying because Sherlock was dead, and Sherlock crying because he can in no way communicate with John. “He acts like this only pains him.”

“As of now, it does. Because you are considered dead.” They have these conversations loads of times as if the answers weren't already obvious.

Sherlock sat up and leaned his back on the headboard. “This is insane. I need something Mycroft. Patches, drugs….anything.”

Mycroft hated seeing his brother like this. Almost like that time that he forced Sherlock to stop by bribing him to work with Lestrade. Not for mind you, but with. It’s been working ever since. Up until now.  
“I need to deduce something useful. Having my mind on John does not help.”

Mycroft nodded. “Understandable. You use to be a busy person. Half of you wants Moriarty to be alive to keep you entertained, the other half of you is relieved that he is dead and his minions are being tracked down as we speak.”

Sherlock just hummed again, knowing that what his brother was saying is true, though he would never admit it.

“I told John that you had interest in him. I think it did more harm than good. Still, at least he knows.”

“Have, Mycroft. I have interest.”

“I know. You called his name out only twice.” Mycroft reminded him. Him and Sherlock only had sex once every blue moon. Sherlock needed someone that he can trust, who can hold him, and calm him down, Mycroft needing someone that he can protect with just a few commands to his fellow people. One month ago, while they were having sex, Sherlock called out John’s name as he orgasmed, and Mycroft had let him knowing that Sherlock needs to have a moment for a piece of mind to let him believe that it was John. It never happened again until a week ago, and again, Mycroft had let him. Sherlock was always careful about only calling out Mycroft. But sometimes, it was just a slip.

They never called it “making love” or “making love to his brother” because it wasn’t quite that. It was a little more than convenient, it was like...brotherly love. That’s what Mycroft called it. And it would never be seen as cheating if Sherlock indeed got together with John, because it was a bond that John….wouldn’t quite be a part of.

“I’m not going to be able to sleep, Mycroft.” Sherlock said after a while.

Mycroft nodded. “I can tell. Would you like me too?”

Sherlock looked up at the ceiling, getting tears in his eyes. “Please..”

Mycroft gently helped Sherlock onto his back as he straddled him, keeping him close. “Shhhhh...I got you.” Mycroft kissed the bottom of Sherlock’s eyes, eventually finding his mouth, kissing him slowly, knowing Sherlock loved it when it was slow.  
Sherlock worked on controlling his breathing, knowing that if he cried, Mycroft would still be there. He slowly kissed him back, arms resting at Mycroft’s perfect hips. He opened his mouth and moaned as he felt Mycroft’s tongue enter him.

Mycroft smiled as he felt Sherlock melt into the mattress. He moved away from those warm lips and started sucking and licking his neck.

Sherlock moaned, loudly, tilting his neck to give Mycroft.

Mycroft felt Sherlock starting to get hard, so he slowly grinded his hips into Sherlock’s, getting hard himself.

Sherlock whispered Mycroft’s name, as he thrust up against Mycroft, creating more friction. This time it was Mycroft that moaned. He pulled back from his neck, as he started stripping off his suit. 

Sherlock, knowing the drill by now, started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

Once they were both shirtless, Mycroft racked his hands, up and down Sherlock’s torso, playing with a nipple every now and then.

Sherlock shivered. Mycroft’s hands were always warm! He whimpered when he felt the weight leave him, than realising that he had mere seconds to take off the rest of his clothes, so he quickly did so, and immediately felt the warmth of Mycroft’s naked body against him. 

Sherlock kissed Mycroft back, warm and deep, as his hands rested at the back of his brothers head, moaning softly.

Mycroft moaned back at hearing his younger brother, and grinded his cock against Sherlock’s.

Sherlock gasped, and grinded back, now fully hard. “Mycroft…”

Mycroft loved it when Sherlock was like this. Already moaning before they even got started. He bit Sherlock’s neck and grinding down harder, moaning more loudly at the friction.

Sherlock wrapped his legs around Mycroft, starting to get a rhythm going. “Mycroft..oh God yesss..”

“Oh Sherlock...Stop. Let me get the lube.”

Sherlock huffed and let him go. He spread out his long, pale legs, as he waited. He was slightly panting, but full of excitement.

Mycroft slicked up his fingers, groaning at the sight of his younger brother open before him like a willing slut. If Sherlock was, it was only for him. Mycroft smirked at the thought as he slid two fingers inside Sherlock. Sherlock was so warm and hot, clenching and unclenching.

Sherlock licked his lips, as he felt the fingers slide into him, working him open. It was only matter---OHH!! Sherlock bucked his hips up, trying to get the pleasure back.

Mycroft grinned, as he started to slowly finger-fuck Sherlock, hitting that spot nice and slowly.

“Mycroft...oh Mycroft….yes yes yes..oh god!” Sherlock rocked back on the fingers. God it felt good! He could cum just from Mycroft’s fingers and he would love every minute of it.

Mycroft licked his ear, and whispered, “You’re beautiful Brother. And as of now, mine. You’ll always be mine. Face it..”

Sherlock whimpered at the words, and grinded harder back, releasing a moan as it dug into his spot. “Mycroft come on…”

Mycroft chuckled, and added a third. Now really finger-fucking Sherlock.

“Oh oh yes!! Oh that’s it….right there...ohhh….!”

Mycroft suddenly stopped and took out his fingers, hearing Sherlock’s huff of annoyance at the stopping. Mycroft slicked himself up, and he slowly entered Sherlock, moaning loudly. “Ohhh baby…”

Sherlock moaned back at the fullness, wrapped his legs around again, and thrusted up. If Mycroft would not fuck him soon, Sherlock was going to fuck himself on Mycroft. He got harder at the thought.

Mycroft chuckled, as he started thrusting, getting a rhythm going almost immediately.  
Sherlock gasped. “Yes Mycroft…” He had his hands from fisting the sheets, to the back of Mycroft’s back, knowing Mycroft loves it.

Mycroft went faster. “God baby….Sherlock!...ohhh yes…”

“Mycroft!” He rocked with him. God it felt soooo good to have Mycroft inside of him. He always knew what to do.

Mycroft shifted Sherlock and started thrusting hard. “Sherlock! Oh Sherlock so good..”

Sherlock saw stars, as he clawed Mycroft’s back. “Mycroft again!! Faster..Harder!!”

Mycroft obeyed, hitting Sherlock’s spot with enough force that had the whole bed rocking into the wall. He was moaning loudly. “Ohh baby...that’s it…”  
Sherlock rocked back, moaning loudly, mixing with Mycroft’s. His whole body rocked back and forth. Whimpers were out, groans, moans, screams from the both of them.

Screams of names, screams of love. Screeches, as they both climaxed.

“Mycroft!!” Sherlock came hard, blackening out.

“Sherlock!” Mycroft felt Sherlock clenching around him and that did it. He came.

When Sherlock came to, he was covered up in a warm blanket, with Mycroft stroking his back. Sherlock’s mind, thankfully stopped, as he finally closed his eyes. “Thank you…”

Mycroft slowly smiled, as he stayed until Sherlock was fast asleep. He got up and put on his own clothes, and walked back to his own room. He laid down in his bed, as he texted John,  
‘Remember, he is in a better place now. He’s safe now.-M’


End file.
